Tag Archives: Love

Born again retroactive postdated internet virginity

Welcome to the first blog of www.mrleebarton.com.   My new WEB site is operational and everyone who followed my other one should be transferred to this.  This is my hope and dream.

Every night now life gets more uncertain in all areas. I may be unemployed in May, at least from desk job and I think for a temporal forever as I look to skip to a new live wire with rubber tap shoes. We’ll see what happens.  I’m in an acting class that’s timely and practical and forcing me to go to work.  Daddy has some ancient fish to feed, so to speak.

Living area is next.  I should stay in New York but LA prices for a REAL sun drenched 1BR, not a NYC REAL sun drenched 1BR.  Now, on Craigslist I often see ads for Rubenesque women and sun-drenched apartments when I’d more inclined towards sun-drenched women and Rubenesque apartments and LA and the Pacific ocean might just have that dyslexic funk for living and loving.  My fake lease ends July 31st and sometimes I feel NYC and I have unfinished business so I must give NYC the five point exploding heart technique of love, or when I talk to my dog, bursting love poop.    Something special is about to happen here, not sure exactly what but something creamy.  I can feel it because some hours I feel energized and some completely exhausted for no apparent reason but those inner reasons are the ones that really cause the sunspots so I dig. And right now, everything is up in the air.  Except my penis. That’s still floating at sea level. Somewhere is life and somewhere is death and the confusion gargling between the two is where Sex lies on its teeth, whistling for missing harmony. My dad asked me a couple of weeks ago if I had any desire to get married and I said ‘Yes, mein Papa, but I’m not going to do it just to do it. That sounds like one lousy wedding.”  He laughed and I started walking down that path everyone does at some point, looking back at chances and wondering if there were any missed and only in those secret corners of the heart do they loiter for release on a good, doubled baked deathbed.  I’ve had my chances at mating.  Really quite a few when I started taking inventory. ONe of the few Bible passages I do take solace in is that looking back turns you to a salt lick.  And I really can’t say I feel I missed a boat, I mean a lifetime-boat, not an evening one-ff pleasure cruise.

Ask me again in a year.

Good night to the B-side dreamers.




The deepest rung where you are wrapped

In 2001: A Space Odyssey, when Commander Bowman returns to Discovery in one of the space pods after retrieving the dead body of Commander Poole, HAL refuses to open the pod bay doors, plum drowned in madness and conflict.  Commander Bowman takes a risk and goes through the emergency airlock, which is not pressurized and without a helmet, has few precious seconds to last the few feet to the entrance of Discovery. He manages to do it in a taut few seconds.

When I have spells in my life where it feels like I’m between lives, or pressed up against the  new life by the old and have reached a stalemate, I think of that part of the film.   Or when I have to walk through a patch of hurt I think of it because it’s dive in, hold your breath and get through it and the air will return no matter what chaos that’s supposed to be order won’t let you back in the conventional way.

I’ve only loved two women in my life deeply enough to say I really know what love is. For that I am fortunate; for the circumstances around each I am extremely unfortunate.  The first love, a dark and disastrous affair, I was discussing with a friend and she said it seems that I have a large capacity to love given what happened.  It was a good thing to hear because it reminds me of what I call the Inner Sanctum Heart, that secret roaming ground that words can’t hold and usually lays sleeping.  The second woman, in a seemingly difficult marital and health situation, I realized this week still sits in that Inner Sanctum heart.    Sometimes when too much time happens by with dark side of the moon silence, I worry something may have happened health wise. Today I poked around on the Internet and through one of her relatives, found her husband’s Facebook account and a picture of he and she in a Christmas Card photo.  That’s when the Inner Sanctum heart opened house and dropped a mile wide of heartache all over the place. I feel a bit the sucker but it’s no one’s fault.  In fact, it set off a whole buffet of looking back and wading through all of the opportunities I’ve had over the years with women; one’s I’ve passed up and usually I do this when I feel lonely. But I don’t feel lonely, I just feel like I need to hold my breath and walk through the vacuum hole without my head exploding.  I must be clearing the catacombs for something new.  Or at least clearing the catacombs.  The rest I can’t put into words, except that Love explodes from the inside where you sit, hang, linger, powder, and flip a coin of pain and joy a thousand times until I lose your face on either side.


Love, Choice Illusion and the ballast

A while ago a friend and I were having dinner at a health type eatery that had dishes that were very wide and shallow so when the pasta was brought out it looked like I would have three days worth of meals but was actually only one noodle deep; going out to eat after going out to eat happens every so often but we should be eating less as a species anyway;

As we chewed very slowly we talked about love and she claimed that one could choose who they loved and said no;  I guess they’re both right.  In my experience though, I can say I have loved only two women in my love and by love, I mean something within the body and beyond it; I guess it beckons what is Love to someone and that’s when grappling with angels has purpose;  I’ve thought of that discussion every so often because I am a romantic and I also believe to have control of who you choose to love and who you do not love negates the other person in the equation and assumes a sense of control over everything, which to me is the opposite of Love; love puts everything in tatters that’s unreal and like two hydrogens and an oxygen coming together to form water, I don’t think hydrogen can choose to form water with another element. Maybe it can; when someone poses a point of view I hadn’t considered I like to wrestle with it a bit see if I missed something.  The two women I have loved I feel I have no choice how I feel about it; I don’t want to have a choice; it’s how we handle it where the choices live, the choices with the meat of ethics and growth.  I feel lucky to have encountered twice other souls that have illuminated parts of me that I may not have found or if I did, in a much less sexy way, sitting up in a mountain chanting alone.  I’d rather get there with a little nudity beside me.  Maybe I chose to meet these two entities before I was born. That’s another story.  I’m not a frivolous person so perhaps I take it all too seriously and should answer questions on Nerve’s dating site about whether TV is considered a date; these seem like questions for twentysomethings.  I’m two neighborhoods over from that and we don’t hand out copies of The Game at committee meetings unless I missed those.  I guess at the base of it is this gnawing fear that my whole life could end up crushed inside a box of Mac and Cheese, preserved but unreal.  I’m going to stick with my answer I gave my friend; if I could control what I felt it would be like forcing my blood to spontaneously flow in the opposite direction or bottling up a hurricane between my finger and thumb. Choiceless choice, like when mystics have profound experiences in the presence of a great spirit or entity of renown.

We’ll see next go around.